


Endear Yourself To Me

by valdomarx (cptxrogers)



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Endearments, Fluff, Geralt is not, Jaskier is smooth, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:28:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23112469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cptxrogers/pseuds/valdomarx
Summary: Five times Jaskier uses an endearment when talking to Geralt, and one time Geralt uses one back.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 24
Kudos: 1227
Collections: Math, Well that was delightful





	Endear Yourself To Me

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on [tumblr](https://valdomarx.tumblr.com/post/611324922471628800/it-just-slips-out-one-day-while-theyre-loading).
> 
> Don't tell anyone, but secretly, I'm soft.

It just slips out one day, while they’re loading up Roach.

“Hand me those bags, will you?” Geralt asks.

“Anything for you, my dearest,” Jaskier replies.

If the endearment bothers Geralt, he doesn’t show it. Jaskier figures it’s fine.

* * *

Jaskier is setting up camp when Geralt returns with two hares. He skins them efficiently, roasts them over the fire, and hands one to Jaskier. They haven’t had fresh meat in three days, and it smells _divine_.

“Oh, sweetheart!” Jaskier exclaims. “You know just how to please me.”

Geralt grunts.

* * *

Jaskier has the whole tavern clapping and singing along, eating out of the palm of his hand. As he strikes the final triumphant chord and the crowd bursts into applause, Jaskier gestures to where Geralt is in his customary repose, scowling in a dark corner.

“Direct your applause to my muse and my treasure, Geralt of Rivia!”

Geralt attempts, unsuccessfully, to hide his face behind his tankard.

* * *

“He’ll need watching,” the healer warns. Even witchers have limits to their healing powers, and a distressingly large chunk of Geralt’s side is missing, torn off by a particularly vicious kikimore.

“I’ll stay with him,” Jaskier says without hesitation.

“I’ll be fine,” Geralt grumbles, but his voice is rough and scratchy.

“Hush, darling,” Jaskier says. “Let me look after you for once.”

* * *

Geralt is three days late returning from a hunt. When he enters their room at the inn, he finds Jaskier wearing out the floor with his pacing.

“You’re still here.” Geralt seems genuinely surprised. The weight lifts off Jaskier’s chest in an instant. “Thought you would have got bored and wandered off by now.”

“As if I would ever leave you, my love.”

“Hmm.”

* * *

Geralt is not a man who shows his affection through words. That is Jaskier’s domain. But sometimes, he tries.

They lie beneath the stars, the clear night air drying the sweat from their bodies, the embers of the fire illuminating their faces in washes of orange.

Geralt brushes a hair from Jaskier’s forehead. “Are you well?” he asks, light and attempting toward casual in a way which betrays his nervousness.

“Yes, beloved.” Jaskier turns to him. “Well indeed.”

“I’m glad, my-” Jaskier watches the wheels in his head spinning. “-buttercup.”

Jaskier snorts. “Buttercup? Really? That’s what you’re going with?”

“It’s-” Geralt gestures vaguely. “Romantic. Isn’t it?”

Geralt is not a man of words. But he really does try.


End file.
